


Arthur Does Not Hate Pistachios - Day 21

by mycitruspocket



Series: My-Citrus-Pocket’s Advent Calendar 14/15 [20]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Annoying Habits, Christmas Presents, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:18:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycitruspocket/pseuds/mycitruspocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Arthur does not hate pistachios. He reminds himself every day that he does not hate pistachios."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arthur Does Not Hate Pistachios - Day 21

**Author's Note:**

> Last year's Advent calendar now with new Inception drabbles on the days I missed last year. ;)  
> Crossposted [here on my blog](http://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/post/106143511528/my-fic-advent-calendar-2014-masterpost). 
> 
> Thank you eventhorizon451 for prompting me even if you don't know these two loveable idiots.

Arthur does not hate pistachios. He reminds himself every day that he does not hate pistachios.

How could he? The first time he’d kissed Eames – all those months ago after a job when Eames had asked him back to his – Eames had tasted like pistachios, mixed with a hint of tobacco and honeyed tea. He can’t bring himself to hate either of those things, although he‘s never smoked in his life, prefers coffee and has never had a penchant for any kind of nut, shelled or otherwise.

Arthur is aware that Eames clouds his senses these days, making him look at things differently. Now, simply the smell of something he relates to Eames irritates him beyond belief and has his stomach twisting with longing. So when Arthur steps on a pistachio shell in his bespoke Italian shoes and feels the delicate leather sole being punctuated by those tiny sharp edges, he closes his eyes and takes calming breaths.

In - and out.

Then he hoovers Eames’ Mombasian apartment, repeating over and over in his head that he doesn’t hate pistachios.

Eames watches him from the sofa where he is sprawls loose limbed across the cushions, his lips curving into one of his amused little smiles and continues to eat pistachios like he always does.

“I told you, darling, just go barefoot at home. Then you won’t need to re-sole your precious shoes so often and I’d be treated to the lovely sight of your sexy ankles.”

“And I told you, Mr. Eames, that won’t solve the problem, I’d simply hurt my fucking feet instead.”

“Then I could at least kiss it better, which you’d then find hot and we could have steamy make-up sex. This way you just do this angry hoovering thing, which is no fun at all.”

Arthur sighs, and keeps hoovering. He does not hate pistachios.

When he flops down beside Eames on the sofa afterwards - almost calm and ready to make up for not having make-up sex earlier - the sharp edge of a pistachio shell pokes into his thigh, nearly ripping apart the fine fabric of his suit. Arthur sighs again and takes another deep, calming breath while Eames just smiles besides him, cracking open another pistachio and throwing the discarded shells in the general direction of the bin and missing it completely.

*

They relocate to Arthur’s New Yorker apartment a while later. Due to the prospect of an interesting job, but also because Arthur misses the city and Eames said he’d follow him anywhere. So New York it is.

After a week Arthur notices the total lack of pistachio shells in his neat, comfortable and tastefully decorated apartment. There are no shells on his dark, polished hardwood floor nor on the butter soft leather sofa. Now he finds that he almost misses them, misses the way Eames lips curl around them when he cracks them with his teeth, misses the sweet-salty taste when he kisses him, misses watching Eames just swirling them around in his mouth with his tongue while he mumbles nonsense at the TV.

He goes out and buys him a package which Eames thanks him for with a sweet kiss, but never opens.

One night, when they are snuggled up in bed, Arthur feels the need to address the situation.

“You can eat them here, you know. I briefly thought about bringing you shelled ones, but I know that opening them is half the enjoyment for you.”

“Oh darling, but you find it so terribly annoying. I’d rather live without them than without you. I think I chose wisely.” Eames kisses Arthur’s hair fondly, and Arthur doesn’t know what to say in response.

“Um, thanks, I guess,” Arthur manages finally and snuggles into Eames’ chest, not completely satisfied with Eames’ solution to the problem.

So Arthur does what he does best: research. A phone call to Eames’ mother reveals that his granddad loved pistachios. Eating them together while Eames sat on his grandad’s lap in front of the fireplace, and that they made a game out of throwing them into the burning fire. He also finds out that Eames gets his supply from a small, but exquisite plantation in Turkey and orders an obscene quantity because it is Christmas after all.

*

Eames blinks at the 10 sacks in the living room, each topped with a lovely red bow.

“Are those… for me?”

“Yes, open them. Come one!”

Arthur fidgets where he stands close by, watching how Eames carefully unties the bow on the nearest sack and reaches inside.

“You bought me an awful lot of pistachios.”

“Yeah, go on, eat one.”

Eames does as he’s told and Arthur watches rapturously as he pries open the shell and licks the nut from it.

“Hmmm, Arthur, they are…”

Before Eames can say anything else, Arthur flings himself at Eames, kissing him deeply.

When he comes up for air he says, “Fuck I missed pistachios. Merry Christmas, Eames. Never change, please.” And Eames smiles at him, eyes crinkling, and kisses him again.

With that, Arthur knows that he loves Eames far more than he could ever hate pistachios.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by eventhorizon451: I have never seen the movie, but any couple is plagued by the one annoying habit one half of the couple has. Something completely minor, but terribly irritating…
> 
> The prompt made me think of [this post](http://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/post/133472526903/kedgeree11-my-citrus-pocket-kedgeree11) where kedgeree11 and I discussed the question of what Eames is eating.


End file.
